


I found myself an old solution

by Merriwa



Category: Rugby Union RPF
Genre: Domestic Fluff, HEA, M/M, overexcited puppies, sex is always the answer, some angst obviously, wedding talks, your healthy dose of pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-17
Updated: 2014-08-17
Packaged: 2018-02-13 12:10:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,315
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2150232
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Merriwa/pseuds/Merriwa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Yoann is on a mission, the husbands are in love and the XV toulousain just enjoys getting drunk on Champagne.</p><p>or, as Aoife prompted : "Clément+Vincent party planning." featuring close to none actual planning, somehow kind of Yoann centric events, way-more-angsty-than-planned-but-I-make-up-for-it-in-the-end-take-my-computer-away-from-me-factor.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I found myself an old solution

**Author's Note:**

> A lot of commas were harmed in the making of this fic. (as usual)  
> And no beta were involved which means I am sorry for my grammar and mispellings.
> 
> Title from Florence+The Machines' song "Bedroom Hymns"
> 
> Also I feel obligated to say : if you're on this page because you googled your name, for your peace of mind and mine, you should really close it now.

It all starts with a furious text from Yoann because all their problems somehow always start with Yoann.

**How come I didn't get to party too?!** Followed by the longest trail of exclamation point Vincent has ever seen in his life. Next to him, Clément protests in his sleep, tightening his grip on Vincent's hips, tucking them even closer in the bed -that shouldn't even be possible seeing at how entangled into each other they're always sleeping, Vincent muses, threading his fingers soothingly into Clément's hair. His phone buzzes in his hand again.

**Srsly bro tjat UNFAJR!**

**Evrbody DID**

**Fake bro**

Vincent sighs quietly and texts back rapidly  **Go to bed Yo** and to Gaël  **Stop making Yoann drink or else.**

He doesn't wait for any answer, turning his phone off and burying his face into his husband's neck. Clément sighs contentedly against him and Vincent is asleep before his head even touches the pillow.

 

*****

 

He gets the whole story at practice the day after when Yoann corners him on his way out of shower, his whole face into an impressive pout.

“First I wasn't drunk so fuck you for thinking so.”

“Oh I'm sorry kid,” Vincent retorts with a snort – he knows Yoann hates being called 'kid' “Must've been confused by your stellar spelling, at least _I_ have the excuse of being drunk when I write texts like those.”

“It was _hyper_ important! Sorry for not checking my spelling too closely!” Yoann retorts outraged.

“And you were drunk.” Gaël pips, flipping a towel at his team mate's butt with a smirk before disappearing in the showers.

“I was not!” Yoann protest, massaging his bum and throwing the center a mean look “I just realised the most unfair thing! Everybody got to celebrate your wedding and I DIDN'T!”

This is so ridiculous that Vincent collapses in laughter in spite of himself. It only accentuates Yoann's pout and Gaël pokes his head at the door again “Did he tell you yet?”

“You,” Vincent says after he manages to catch his breath, lifting a threatening finger toward the center “You don't get to say a word because next time Yo is drunk texting me at three in the morning, there _is_ going to be consequences.” 

“Colour me scared!” Gaël mocks returning to his shower.

“No but seriously mate, the bachelor party, the getting champagne drunk at the reception, flirting with your sister, I never got to have that!” 

“Okay, first of all nobody flirted with my sister-”

“I DID!” Florian interjects happily.

“Yes and lucky for your balls my sister has better taste than that!” Vincent retorts with an eyeroll.

“Dude, everybody hit on your sister that day, your sister is _hot_!” someone yells from the far out corner of the locker room, that might be Max but Vincent isn't sure.

“You're all losers and I hate you! You are never touching my sister, she's _**twelve**_!”

A collective laughter errupts from the locker room.

“Let them talk,” Clém's voice interrupts, drawing a soothing hand in his husband's sore back before grinning sheepishly “Margaux prefers footballers anyway.”

“Clém!” Vincent squeaks sending a betrayed glare to his husband while their teammate keep on laughing gleefully. Clément grins widely before droping a loud kiss on his cheek and walking away while Vincent mumbles whinningly “ _twelve! No boyfriend. Ever.”_

Mischief Managed. Vincent knows that somehow he shouldn't find it that hot.

“Okay fine no flirting with the sister but can we concentrate on my problem here ?!” Yoann interrupts again, snapping his fingers in front of his face, brows furrowing impressively.

“What do you want me to say ?” Vincent asks with a sigh “You were playing for _Bayonne_ at the time remember?”

“And just for that you didn't invite me ?! You guys suck so much!”

“Well considering you ditched us for two seasons you know...”

“You're never gonna let it slide, are you ?”

“Nah we're cool kid, you know it, but it's not like I can reverse time and invite you to our wedding.” Vincent tries to reason, knowing a lost cause when he sees one.

“No but you can, like, celebrate it _again!_ I mean, there should be like an anniversary or something, renewal of vows or-”

“You just want an excuse to party, don't you ?” Thierry asks calmly behind them and Yoann does that weird thing with his face where everybody can tell he's lying when he retorts : “Absolutely not! I think it's … important... to show support... for team mates and... Celebrate love!” 

Next to Titi, Imanol snorts, finishing to put his shirt on “Yeah right a sudden LGBT impulse, such a selfless act is touching really. Something you wanna tell us?”

“No I-”

Vincent doesn't wait for the rest of the tirad and silently retreats to the corner of the room where Clément is finishing to pack up their bags, sitting on the bench. Clém's hair are still wet from the shower, curling up on his temples. Vincent comes up close and laces up his fingers into the small hair in the back of Clém's neck, gently tightening his grip until his husband lifts his head with a smirk. God he loves that smirk. “What ?” Clément asks playfully “You don't think we should  _ celebrate our love _ ?”

“I can think of a few ways to do it that wouldn't involve the kid or any of them to be honest...” Vincent whispers after checking nobody is close enough to hear them. A little spark of interest lights up Clém's eyes. “Is that so?”

“hmm... let's just go home okay?”

“You had me at sex.” Clém agrees, stealing a teasing kiss.

“I never said anything about sex.” Vincent retorts with a fond grin, taking back the kiss, lingering a bit longer.

“Nah you're right, let's just go home and call my mum.”

“You're a deeply _deeply_ twisted man, love.” Vincent winces “You just killed my bonners for the next decade.”

“I'm sure I can find a way to arrange that...” Clément retorts seductively, wrapping both his arms around Vincent's hips.

“Oh really?” Vincent answers, lifting a challenging eyebrow.

“Come on guys what did we say about the coupley stuff in the locker room?!” Max calls from the other side of the room. There are a more than a few cat-calls when the heads turn their way and Vincent feels himself blush violently when Clément tighten his grip on him, resting his head against his chest, no traces of remorse whatsoever and whispers too low for anyone else to catch “He's just jealous because he's not the one who's gonna get blown in the shower later...”

“Hey you know what?” Vincent answers loudly, grabbing his bag and lifting Clément to his feets in the same movement “You're right, you're so right, we're going home now! Okay bye!” 

“Wait and for my problem?!” Yoann yells from the showers.

“Go party at some bar!” Clément yells back, grinning widely, barely looking back.

“Somebody is getting laid!” one of them shouts behind and there is else nothing Vincent can do without slowing down other than flip them off, so he does it without any remorse, ignoring the following laughter. He has a promised blowjob inwaiting, serious business those things.

 

*****

 

So, Yoann doesn't drop the whole party thing as it happens. Actually, he seems to mention it every single time he manages to corner Vincent somewhere. At some point, Vincent even considers discreetly killing him during training, a slightly harder tackle, replacing him with an overexcited puppy, nobody would notice... probably.

“Come on Vince! You owe me!”

“Since when?” Vincent asks for the undredth time, when they're sprawled out on his couch one day, Clém out with Fred and Imanol for a _boys night out_. Vincent snorts every time at the excuse but respect his husband's need for space. They play for the same team, they live together, they have the same friends, it's those kind of little things that helps them not implode after three years of mariage. Like the traditional golf morning he has going on with Florian and Max at least once a week on a day off ( any other day off is mandatory cuddles in bed, because they are not above being _disgustingly in love_ as Yoann puts it regularly – usually to ask them to stop whatever cuddling they have going on. Usually killing the mood. Idiot. )

“Since...” Yoann says, visibly struggling for words “That time I let you get the try against the RCT?”

“Oh no, you never ''let me'' get a try, I barely passed it on my own, stop nagging.” Vincent retorts, smacking his team mate with his feet while turning back his attention toward the TV that is currently showing a rerun of NCIS-Los Angeles. “I don't owe you shit. Now hush I'm actually watching that.”

Yoann actually shuts up for a whole ten minutes after that, which is already a miracle in itself. Vincent is only half surprised when Yoann nudges him almost off the couch “Was there good champagne at least? Did Imanol got so drunk he fell asleep on the dancefloor and started snoring at Clém's mum?”

“What? _NO.”_ Vincent blurts “Have you been watching Four Weddings for a Honeymoon again? What are those stupid fantasies you have about our wedding, that's creepy mate, in a creepy-wtf way.”

“Come ooooooon, just a teeny tiny party with wedding dress code and champagne! Please please please please!”

“We are not doing pretend wedding because you suddenly have some weird desire to get drunk on champagne, don't bars sell champagne already?”

“No you don't understand I'm jus-”

“Oh for fuck sake, why is it so important for you? Like we can plan a party or something but does it have to be wedding themed?”

“it's not-” but Vincent can visibly see Yoann retracting on himself, suddenly redfaced and mumbling things he can't grasps. Okay so now _that's_ interesting. Vincent straightens himself on the couch, watching his winger fidget under his gaze. 

“You're right.” Yoann decides suddenly, turning back to the TV and putting the volume up “Let's drop it.”

“Is there something you want to tell me ?” Vincent pushes carefully. He thought Yoann and Max were still on the let's-hook-up-and-not-calling-it-feelings basis but maybe he missed a step between the last team's barbequeue and the Christmas charity.

“No I'm good.” 

“... No party then?”

“No party, fine by me.” Yoann answers rapidly, desperately avoiding eye-contact.

Vincent ponders the idea of trying to get the truth out of his team mate, but the prospect of finally not hearing about wedding again is  _ very _ appealing after the week of constant nagging about how drunk his grandfather was or what colour of tux they wore and how big was the cake. 

“Is this... are you planning on proposing to Max ?”

Okay so that wasn't very subtile, whatever, everybody knows Vincent isn't a subtile guy, plus, he's noticed that apparently you get better results that way. Seeing how Yoann almost falls off the couch, maybe that wasn't the best way, he winces internally.

“What NO! Because we're... I'm... _how do you even_ -”

Yoann looks ready to explode so Vincent puts a firm hand on his shoulder. “Mate. Breath.”

“Did... Did Max tell you about... him and me?” Yoan asks after a few second, panicked tamed down only slightly.

“Is it supposed to be a secret ?” is the only thing Vincent find to retort because : _Seriously ?_

“Well we... hu...”

Yoann takes a deep breath and then turns off the TV. “I don't even know what we are so I wouldn't even know what to tell people.”

“Well you haven't been exactly discreet.”

Yoann looks hillariously offended by the comment. Vincent shakes his head, trying to hide his smile. “Sorry mate but I think everyone saw you two drunk arses exiting the Christmas party and I don't think anyone can forget the places your hands were at the time...”

Yoann blushes furiously and lets his head fall onto the cushions with a loud groan.

“Don't worry though, I mean nobody cares obviously. I think the having-two-teammates-married-to-each-other pretty much gives anybody a free pass to bang whoever on the team you know?”

It takes a few minutes more for Yoann to compose himself.

“I _know_. I know I just need some time to... figure things out okay?”

“No problems.” Vincent nods firmly and Yoann seems to settle slightly.

“Good. Thanks. Fine.”

Vincent waits a few minutes more before he asks without being able to help himself “So if you don't plan on proposing soon, why all the wedding talks?”

Yoann blushes again and shakes his head decidedly. Something in Yoann's demeanour prevents Vincent from insisting but they're definitely going to talk about it at some point. He's going to pick up the remote again when Yoann blurts out “I'll tell you if you have the party.”

“Seriously?! Are we down the blackmail path now?” Vincent asks indignantly.

“Well, since nothing seems to work...”

“I am pretty sure anything you want to do or see there, could be done at any other parties...” Vincent points out.

“Pretty sure it can't. Why is this such an issue anyway? This is the best day of your life but without the pressure and the family!”

“So you want us to have a cheap version of our mariage for some obscure reasons you don't even wanna tell me...?”

“You know what? Fine! We'll see what Clément thinks of it.” Yoann says defiantly and Vincent cannot help a laugh. 

“Yeah right, good luck with that.” he concludes, ignoring the childish tongue Yoann shows him and turning the TV on again. Maybe now he'll have some peace for a change.

 

*****

 

“I can't believe we're doing this!” Vincent repeats for the undredth time, trying to remind himself why in the first place he agreed to while checking the white paper tablecloth immitating the ones they had at their wedding reception. Which had actually been prepared by a _wedding planner_. Vincent had tried to argue that even if Clém agreed for both of them to do this farce, they don't need to go full on replicating but apparently his beloved husband wants to humour their team mates until the last detail.

Which meant they've spend the entire morning trying to make the room as similar to their reception room as possible. Seriously there  _ are _ other things Vincent would like to do with his holidays like, sleep for a starter. Fuck his husband also. See his family probably. Call his sister under penalty of death. Not playing with napkins and fake flowers.

“Well you weren't the one Yo cornered to whine about it for hours. Apparently _someone_ told him that I would be the one to make the final call on this so I did.” Clément retorts happily, concentrating on his computer.

“I didn't think you'd cave in _so easily_!” Vincent retorts vindicatively slamming -carefully- a pile of plates down one of the tables. “He's been pestering me for weeks and you didn't see me agree to that nonsense, did you?”

“What about the Spice Girls?”

“And that's a little ridiculous how he can make you do things when I can't even get you to buy a new car when we've needed one for months. And yes, you know you're going to make all the wives and girlfriends dance with that stop asking stupid questions.”

“... are you jealous?”

He's not. Clém is completely absolutely missing the point. He's  _ pissed not jealous _ . 

“I am not. I just wanted to spend quiet week off without having to relive the most stressfull day of my life why am I the only one to find this whole idea ridiculous again?!” Vincent complains, fully aware he sounds whinny but he's allowed once in a while okay.

“You're jealous. Did we go full on Claude François I don't remember?”

“I'm not. Yes we did and don't forget to put some Tryo and Fatal Picards in the playlist too.”

“Done and done.” Clément announces proudly putting a final step to the playlist for the night. “And you are. What's with the new car anyway? I said I'll think about it.”

“You said you'll think about it two months ago.” Vincent retorts trying not to sound bitter. He knows it's a stupid thing to get worked up about but... Clément can be so frustrating sometimes, dismissing how he's feeling so easily and possibly he's kind of tired feeling like the one who always complain. “I don't even know why I'm putting up with this shit maybe I should just get home and-”

Or that. Vincent thinks, a warm and settling feeling spreading in his chest while Clément kisses him thoroughly.

“You're not getting off that easy.” He manages to say between two kisses and Clément smile against his mouth, biting his lower lip playfully. 

“I love you.” Clém answers with another deep kiss. “We can go pick the car this weekend.” he goes on, crowding Vincent against the nearest surface -a table apparently- before diving in his neck. “And _you,_ need to relax.” he finishes after sucking an admittedly impressive hickey under his jaw, which has Vincent let out a needy moan. With a smirk Clément drops to his knees in front of him.

“I'm not sure I'm even surprised anymore that you're using sex to get out of trouble.” Vincent manages while Clément unbuckles his belt quickly.

“You're too coherent for your own good right now, love,” Clément informs him calmly before mouthing the shape of his dick through his boxers , making Vincent's knees go weak and his breath shaky. “Let me arrange that for you.”

Clém's fingers traces the lines of his length painfully slow, pulling him out of his boxers already half hard. Vincent whines shamelessly, trying to scold his hips still. It's really difficult though when Clém is smirking at him all smug and happy, his dark eyes shining with thirst, fingers lazily strocking him to a raging hard-on.

“wanna fuck my mouth?” Clém asks lightly, as if it doesn't make Vincent's brain melt, his body craving to touch and taste and bite and _feel_. The salty skin and the firm texture of the muscles under his fingertips. Biting his lips in anticipation, Vincent nods, too aroused to care about how eager he looks right now.

Smiling full on, Clém swallows the head of his cock enthusiastically, warm mouth making Vincent's mind go blank. He lets his fingers curls in Clém's hair, guiding his head, closer to his hips, carefully making him take all the length of him until he can feel himself hit the back of his throat. It's quite funny how Clément never really had a gag reflex but Vincent used to be scared of chocking him. He remembers the way Clém had to sweet talk him into being a bit rough because that's how he liked it and Vincent was scared to hurt him. It feels good to know exactly how the other likes it, how to make their body react, how to make this the best for both of them. It feels powerful, so much more intimate.

Vincent waits few agonising seconds for Clém to relax his throat. Clément finally lifts his gaze, eyes a little wet and cheek flushed despite his tan and moans approvingly, making his throat vibrate around Vincent's cock. The sudden burst of pleasure makes him groan loudly, fingers pulling Clém's hair roughly almost in spite of him. Vincent lets his cock slide out of clém's skilled mouth, his husband using tongue and hands to accompany the movement, closing his wet lips around the head, sucking on it with a contented sigh. “Fuck” Vincent breaths out shakily. Clément smirks knowingly around him as Vincent trust his hips forward, forcing him to take his cock all the way down his throat again with a loud moan before withdrawing again, imposing a steady rhythm that Clément meets without hesitation. Vincent feels every inch of his skin burning, his orgasm building slowly, Clém's hands cool enough to contrast with the waves of ecstasy travelling all the way down his spine, making him a breathless mess. “Fuck Clém- you're... so good... fuck!”

The fact that he doesn't have to think twice before accelering the pace, fucking down Clément's throat harder,  _ knowing _ that the man likes it as much as him is almost enough to send him over the edge. But it's the sight of Clém's face, cheeks burning red, watery eyes looking up at him in bliss, lips stretched wide around his cock that gives him the last push he needs to come, hot and heavy, letting go of Clém's hair last second to allow him to withdraw if he wants to. Clément doesn't and dutyfully swallows everything with a satisfied moan, licking him clean before letting go of his cock. Vincent sags down against the table, a deep feeling of contentment settling in his bones. Clément looks at him, still somehow smirking but looking like a mess. Vincent knows it must be nothing compared to how  _ ruined _ he must look right now, he thinks, gliding his thumb over Clément's bottom lip. He cannot help a satisfied smile when Clément chases it with his tongue to suck on it lazily.

“Come here.” Vincent orders, helping his husband back to his feet. Clément slumps against him, forcing Vincent up the table and settling between his legs before kissing him thoroughly like he didn't just gave him the best blowjob in the history of blowjobs.

“I am sorry.” Clément murmurs against his mouth, sucking sweetly on his lower lip. Vincent can still taste himself on his tongue, he marvels, still dizzy with his post-orgasm daze. He lifts a hand, curling his fingers in Clém's hair again, tightening his grip around his hips to bring them impossibly closer. He can feel the bulge in his husband's jeans, pressing against his thigh. Clément doesn't seem to be in a rush though, lazily kissing him, deep and languid, fingers brushing the skin of his stomach, just under the hem of his shirt.

Vincent feels his lips stretch into a genuinely happy smile and slides a hand between them, cupping Clém's erection through his pants. But Clément catches his hand before he has a chance to go on

“Vincent.”

“Yeah ?” Vincent asks curiously, lifting his head to catch Clément's eyes. His husband's face is suddenly all serious and Vincent can't help the little sting of fear in his chest before Clément wipes it off with another sweet tasting kiss. “I really am sorry.” Clément repeats, cupping Vincent's jaw and bringing their forehead together. “For the car. For agreeing to this without consulting you. For making you think your feelings didn't matter. I will try to be better I promise.”

The words are so soothing and unexpected that they make Vincent's stomach churns funnily. “Your groveling is extremely sexy.” He informs his husband in a whisper, letting his lips fall back into Clém's neck.

“Yeah I bet.” Clément snorts, biting his lips to prevent a wider smile from breaking out.

“But don't.” Vincent adds firmly, nibbling at the skin right under his ear, hands crawling under Clém's shirt, sinking firmly into his bare back.

“Don't what?” Clément asks in an appreciative groan.

“Try to be better. I need you. I need you to ground me. That's how we work, that's how I love you. Taking none of my worried bullshit. You... make me... better.” Vincent breaths, catching Clém's lips again in a series of hungry kisses, nails reddning his husband's back, much to his pleasure.

“I love you too, you sappy fuck.” Clément grunts, smirks back on. 

“You're the worst, I take it all back.” Vincent informs him in a groan, but he lets Clément kiss him again, slow and achingly sweet. 

It takes him some time but eventually, Vincent breaks it off firmly, slapping Clément's ass with a playful smile “Come on Bambi! Your idea, your responsibility, people will start to arrive in a couple of hours!”

“Sir yes sir!” Clément retorts with a mock salute and a happy laugh.

Yeah, Vincent thinks with an eyeroll, unfortunately Clém's laugh is definitely  _ still _ the best thing he's ever known.

 

** * **

 

Clément slumps down a chair exhausted. He's starting to see why Vincent seemed so against all this party. Although he's not going to admit it : his husband would be unbearable. A quick look at the clock on the wall tells him they still have a good half hour before the guests start to arrive. Vincent is taking care of the stereo-station he's already checked and Clément knows that attitude. He's starting to freak out again. Clém knows he's messed up a lot lately and he doesn't want to have Vincent feels bad like this. His mess, his responsibility. Saddly, his husband is stubborn. Clém knew that when they married. Clém _loves_ that about Vincent. But right now he needs to relax, that was the whole point of the thing. And apparently the blowjob wasn't enough. Time to up the game.

“I think the mixer's fine, love.” he says firmly, waiting patiently for Vincent to lifts his head and look at him. Which he does. Reluctantly. “What do you say we get change and enjoy the calm before the storm?” he adds innocently when he's got Vincent's attention.

“But... I just...” Vincent frowns, looking lost between the computer and Clément who makes his best puppy eyes – they've never worked as good as Yoann ones, but they do the trick on Vincent, which is the ultimately the desired effect.

“Come on,” Clément says, holding out a hand as a peace offering “Let's get into those suits already!” So I can take it off of you with my teeth, he adds silently. Nobody can blame him though, Vincent looks insanely good in a dinner jacket.

“Fine, but I still need to check with the cook for the-”

“Yeah yeah we have time come on!” Clément cuts short, getting up to push Vincent toward the dressing room where they've left their clothes carefully packed this morning.

His husband huffs but follows the move without much resistance. Clément closes the door behind them. He lets Vincent unzip the cothes' bag, turning his back on him and leaving Clément the time to retrieve the little sachet of lubricant he had planned on using later in the night and hide it in the back pocket of his jeans. ( Yes, he had intended to relive the full wedding experience, including the wedding night, otherwise there was no point in all of this ).

next to the clothes rack, Vincent is starting to unbutton his shirt and that won't do, Clément thinks. He takes the few steps that separate them and firmly puts his hands on Vincent hips, making his husband still.

“Let me help...” he whispers in his neck, taking over Vincent's hands to undo the next button. He can feel his husband shivers against his chest and that makes him smile satisfied.

“What are you doing?” Vincent asks, voice rougher than usual, barely above a murmure.

“Apparently you're still too tense, I'm going to arrange that because I am a very helpful husband...” Clém retorts, very proud of him, another button going undone, fingers brushing teasingly against the warm skin of Vincent's abs.

“But the guests-” Vincent starts to protest, breath hitched, melting against Clément.

“Are not due to arrive for another half hour...”

“But we're going to make a mess.” 

Vincent protests are becoming weaker and Clém takes it as good indication to use the final argument just as he finishes with the last button “So you don't want to fuck me on the table? Too bad, I was thinking maybe you could put our ties to good use...”

Vincent turns around so quickly that Clém loses his balance, only to be caugh by a death grip on his arm. “You're the worst.” Vincent growls, eyes darkened by desire before slamming him against the wall and claiming his lips fiercely.

_ Now they're talking _ , Clément thinks smugly, feeling himself hardening in his trousers. Vincent bites into his lower lip viciously and Clément cannot help a low whine echoing from his throat.

“What am I going to do with you?” Vincent says, getting rid of his shirt with a rough move of his shoulders before attacking Clém's neck with his teeth.

“I was thinking you could... blindfold me actually...” Clément breaths out, feeling his body quiver in anticpation.

Vincent groans and Clément marvels for a second at how easily he gets to have Vincent as turned on as him with just a couple of words. “So ?” He asks smugly, trying to muffle the whines threatening to escape his lips everytime Vincent fingers under his shirt scratches against his nipples.

“Take your fucking clothes off. Now.” Vincent orders, breathless, releasing Clément's body without a warning. There's a new urgence in the way they get rid of their remaining clothes, Clément letting his gaze wander over his husband's naked body. Strong thighs, glorious abs and large shoulders and all of it is _his_ and everything is so good right now.

“The fuck are you standing here for? Come here!” Vincent complains, retrieving both their ties, moving the table away from the rack. Clém cocks his head to the side, wondering what exactly his husband has in mind, not really worried. He trusts him to know what he's doing with his body. That's the best part after three years of marriage and six years of dating.

Complying with the order, he hops on the table, a hand already strocking his cock lazily. The look on Vincent's face makes him shudder. He knows that look. Vincent puts a firm hand on his chest, forcing him to lie down on his back, across the table, shoulders going over the edge.

“Give me your hands.”

Clément obeys in a heartbeat, only breathing a low “Fuck yes” when Vincent ties them together with the end of the tied before tying the fabric around one of the table's leg, tight enough so Clément can feel his muscled pulled stiffly in his back without exactly hurting.

“You're so easy, aren't you?” Vincent asks sweetly, standing over him, watching him carefully with a playfull smile. He still holds the other tie in his hand, cocking his head on the side, taking his sweet time, incidentally driving Clément crazy with lust “For you?” he answers, panting slightly “Always.”

Vincent lays down over him slowly, making sure their erections brush against one another, making Clément whines. “Good.” Vincent whispers against his lips before kissing him with intent, filthy like only him can make it feel. While they go on kissing, Clément feels the smooth piece of fabric sliding strangely softly over his eyes and, when he reopens them, it's pitch black. Vincent stops kissing him long enough to tie it behind his head and resume kissing him hotly, finger digging into the skin of his shoulders, preventing him from moving at all. The feeling of being completely under Vincent's control does  _ things _ to Clément. Good things. He corrects himself,  _ delicious _ things. He can feel every single each of their skin brushing against each other, the difference between the sharpness of Vincent's nails and the roughness of his fingertips, between the burning sting of his teeth on his chest and the softness of his tongue trailing its way down his abs. He has to bite his own lip to not be as loud as the sensation are increased by the whole situation. He's starting to get sore in his shoulders but if only Vincent would start  _ touching _ him now everything would be fine. But he isn't and the agonozing wait is  _ killing  _ him.

“Come on Vincent,” he urges between his teeth “Come on _touch me_.”

He can feel a smile stretching Vincent lips against his inner thigh and he  _ knows _ Vincent is so smug right now. Bastard.

“My my are we eager...” Vincent has the nerve to comment tranquily “Tell me instead where you kept the lube.”

“How do you know I have some?” Clém retorts challengingly, voice as clear as humanly possible right now. “Maybe I want you to go dry.”

He can hear Vincent snorts. “Yeah right. No. I know you came prepared, there's no way you didn't plan this.” 

“Oh, I am not allowed to want to be fucked spontaneously by my husband?”

The fact that he can't make out Vincent's expression right now is a fucking tragedy but Clément silently acknowledge that it is also part of the game, and this game is his favourite.

“There's nothing spontaneous about this,” Vincent retorts, the hint of a smile in his voice like he's containing a laughter. “But if it's the case, sadly we'll have to cut this short you know...”

“Back pocket of my jeans.” Clém surrenders in a groan, genuinely afraid that Vincent is going to stop the amazing thing he's currently doing with his tongue, _so close_ to his cock.

It's an undisguised laughters that accompanies the loss of contact when Vincent probably gets to grab the lube from his abandonned clothes. All Clément can hear for a few minutes is fumbling before almost jumping when Vincent's voice echoes suprisingly close to his ear to ask conversationally “You know what? I don't think I'm going to touch you actually...”

“Wha- No! Please! Come o-oh fuck!” Clément protests vigourously, cut through it by Vincent's tongue sucking a hickey right under his ear.

“Yeah no.” Vincent informs, running a hand in Clém's hair “I am going to fuck you don't worry, but I want you to come without me touching your dick, can you do that for me?”

“Yes.” Clément answers breathless, cock so hard at the words it's almost dowright painful.

Vincent's hand grabs his neck firmly, turning his head on the side and kissing him furiously before whispering “I am going to  _ ruin  _ you.”

Clément is  _ so  _ on board with this.

Vincent makes a quick work of opening him up with his fingers slick with lube and it's such a relief when finally –  _ finally _ – he sinks into him, impossibly slow. Clément's whole body is on fire, the pain in his shoulders, the agony of his untouched cock, the thickness of Vincent's dick inside his ass almost has him sob in pleasure. 

“Fuck I wish you could see yourself right now...” Vincent blurts, panting heavily, withdrawing his cock until only the head is still inside before diving back completely without a warning. Clément's moans are so loud right now he's pretty sure his throat won't appreciate this moment as much as he is. Vincent fucks him nice and hard, fucking perfect rhythm, making them fall apart together and it's _so much_. Clément needs release... “Please...” he begs in spite of himself, he needs, anything, any kind of _contact_.

“Shhhh” Vincent orders, voice soft but firm, hoarse with lust “You agreed to it, show me how much you like this... go on, you can come...”

It's like a switch inside Clém's mind and, with another move from Vincent's hips, his orgasm washes over him like a tidal wave. Taking away everything, leaving nothing but the white light behind his eyelids and the exploding pleasure taking apart his body. He lets himself forget everything else for a moment, basking into the intensity of his orgasm, only half aware that Vincent is still fucking into him urgently, making Clém's hypersensitive body tremble under him.

He's barely coming to his sense when Vincent's fingers slides the tie blindfolding him away from his eyes before grabbing his hair, looking into his eyes with such an intense love that Clém's feels his heart miss a beat. Straightening as much as his restraints allow him, Clément chases Vincent's mouth with his right when Vincent starts coming, cry muffles by their kiss, whole body shaking against him.

“Holy... fuck...” Vincent gasps in his neck, collapsing on top of him.

Clément nods in agreement, too exhausted to even try to talk. They stay like this until Clément's shoulders reminds him that he's still tied to the table and that he needs to have the blood circulating normally soon. Reluctantly, he nudges Vincent with his chin and his husband lifts a questioning gaze toward him “Could you maybe untie me, my shoulders are really sore...”

Jumping to his feet and apology stumbling on his lips, Vincent unties him quickly, watching apologetically Clément massaging his arms vigourously. 

“You were right.” Clément says to wash out the worries.

“I'm sure but what about?” Vincent takes the bait voluntarily.

“We did make a mess.” Clém smirks. Even if the room wasn't such a disaster and there wasn't come drying on both their stomach, just one look at their faces and everybody will notice how _ruined_ they look. 

Vincent looks around them and rolls his eyes. “Yeah well we still have ti-”

“We didn't need to bring the champagne right?! Max has been pestering me about it, did you- HOLY FUCKING SHIT NOT AGAIN!”

“Or not.” Clément blinks, trying to bite back a laugh, watching Imanol retreating outside the room as fast as humanly possible. Next to him Vincent's blush is so deep that Clément lets out the laugh he was holding. 

“Well,” he comments when manages to catch his breath, wrapping his arms around Vincent “We really did manage to recreate _every_ step of our wedding now, didn't we?”

Vincent lets his head fall down the crook of his shoulder with a groan, mumbling something Clément can't grasps. “What was that love?”

“At least it wasn't your dad this time.” Vincent repeats a little louder, a small smile settling on his lips.

There's nothing Clément can do to not kiss it away hungrily.

“YOU GUYS BETTER GET YOUR ASSES DOWN THERE FULLY DRESSED IN THE NEXT FIVE MINUTES!” Imanol's voice roars from the other side of the door and Vincent giggles against his mouth. 

“Okay,” he mutters sheepishly “Let's do this shit.”

Fair enough, Clément allows with a last kiss, time to face the music.

 

** * **

 

“So, did we ever know why Yoann wanted to have this party?” Clément hears Vincent asks to Imanol when the party is slowing down, toast made, cake eaten, jackets forgotten on the back of the chairs, shirts unbuttoned halfway and Gaël slurring drunkenly to his girlfriend.

Clément winces. He was still hoping Vincent had forgotten about that, to be honest. It's not always been easy dealing with the situation, mainly because he fucking likes Yoann, he's a team mate, a friend, a person he cares about but the whole thing sometimes is just really uncomfortable. Especially since Vincent is oblivious as fuck.

He catches Imanol's eyes, looking for advice and Clément grimaces, at loss with what to say. Unfortunately, Vincent picks up on it and turns to him with an arched eyebrow.

“What's happening?” Jean-Marc's happy voice interrupts, the man closely followed by Thierry who just left his wife talking to a too sober Alexis.

“Apparently they know why Yoann insisted on having this party and I don't, this is very frustrating.” Vincent says, not exactly upset but not smiling either.

Jean-Marc looks at them in turn before shaking his head with an impressive eyeroll. “You didn't notice?”

“Notice what?” Vincent asks, finger tightening on his glass.

“I haven't even been there that long and  _ I  _ noticed!” the young player says with bafflement. “Nobody is going to say it?”

“Say what? What the fuck is happening?” Vincent asks again, tensing to the point where Clément has to put a hand on his arm to calm him down.

“Yoann is into you.” Jean-Marc announces bluntly.

“What?! No he isn't, he's into Max...” Vincent protest, eyes wide open in surprise. Jean-Marc rolls his eyes at the answer and turns his heels like a coward muttering about oblivious idiots and incestuous teams. Imanol rubs his neck nervously and Clément can almost see Thierry putting his Captain mode full on. Clém's fingers tighten into Vincent's arm.

“I am sorry Vincent but it was pretty obvious for everyone.” Thierry says carefully.

“But... but... but Max?” Vincent stutters pressing himself closer to him, Clément sliding his arm around his hips. He can almost hear Vincent worrying about his behaviour with their team mate and how he must have hurt him and that was precisely what Clément was hoping to avoid tonight.

“I think that was the point of tonight.” Thierry says, explaining what Clément already understood “He really likes Max. It was probably both a question of getting closure over you and working on his commitment issues with Max.”

“How did I miss that?” Vincent breathes out so sadly that Clément fills his heart sink.

“You didn't do anything wrong, love. Nobody did. Don't blame yourself.” He says, pressing a light kiss on his husband's cheek. “I think you should go talk to him.” Clément says firmly, fighting his possessiveness with all his being.

“you think..?” Vincent asks, visibly lost while Clément notices Imanol and Thierry quietly stepping away from them.

Clément cups his husband's face in his palms and kisses him sweetly before confirming “Yes. Give him the closure he needs okay? I'll be right there.”

“How are you so sure I'm not gonna choose him over you?” Vincent jokes timidly.

“I am not.” Clément answers with a blunt honesty. “But I choose to trust you because I love you.”

This time it's Vincent who kisses him first, fiercely making his point and Clém's hearts settles in his chest.

“I love you too, you sappy fuck.” Vincent concludes. 

Yes, Clément thinks, they're going to be alright.

 

** * **

 

Epilogue :

 

“Okay okay, Alice? If you can sit still through the next half hour, I promise you you can have icecream before going to bed tonight.” Clément murmurs firmly, hands on the little girl's shoulders, looking at her directly in the eyes.

“What?! No!” Vincent protests in a furious whisper, trying not to disturb Yoann's grandma who has been watching them disapprovingly since the ceremony started.

Clément sends him a glare, trying to convey the  _ Max and Yoann will never forgive us if we ruin their wedding _ idea. Vincent shakes his head vehemantly and Clément mouths at him “Fine, you do it then.”

Sighing like he's the only responsible adult around here, Vincent hops their daughter on his knees and starts cuddling her soothingly. Possibly it makes Clém's heart melt like icecream in august but that's besides the point. They're having an argument here thank you very much.

“Hey kitten, do you know why we're here today?” he hears Vincent whispers impossibly low to Alice. The little blond headed girl shrugs unsure even though they must have had this talk at least ten times this week. “We're here because uncle Max and uncle Yo are going to get married.”

“Because they're in love?” the five years old asks, trying to imitate her father's whisper and failing by a mile, making few of the guests' heads turn toward them with fond smiles. 

“Yes kitty, very very in love. Just like daddy and me.” Vincent goes on quietly, “but they can't get married if littles girls like you keep making noise during the wedding yes? That wouldn't be very nice if they weren't able to get married because of us now, would it? They'd be very sad...”

Alice looks at her father with wide eyes before putting both her hands over her mouth, nodding furiously and burrying her head into Vincent's torso.

Vincent smirks at Clément above her head, threading his fingers in her golden locks. “I win.” he mouths smugly and Clément rolls his eyes, unable to help a small smile.

Bribing and emotional blackmail are probably not in any of the parenting books they've read so far but, all in all, they're not making a bad job of raising her, he thinks. He turns his head toward the center of the room, just in time to see Yoann states clearly “I do.”

Vincent's hands catches his between their sits. Fucking finally.

 


End file.
